


Turkey

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-08-31
Updated: 2001-08-31
Packaged: 2018-11-20 17:37:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11340168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: A brief K/M bondage snippet for sending a post to the wrong newsgroup.





	Turkey

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Turkey by Nonie Rider

Turkey  
by Nonie Rider ()  
Summary: A brief K/M bondage snippet for sending a post to the wrong newsgroup. 

* * *

Face down on the floor, wrists lashed to ankles behind his back, Mulder caught his breath helplessly as Krycek's boot came down harder on the back of his neck.

"Plokhoy malchik! Bad boy, Mulder, you've been a VERY bad boy."

Mulder couldn't help whimpering, not so much at the pain, but at the rich dark smell of the boot that claimed his submission. Leather, motorcycle oil, beer and smoke, dust and alley muck and a faint chemical taint that might be the trace of an alien's green death-goo, with a sweeter edge that was definitely blood.

The boot lifted and drew back. Mulder braced himself.

"Mulder, just what the hell did you think you were doing posting to the wrong newsgroup? What's next, hunting down CancerMan so you can ask after his podiatrist? Greeting the alien invasion with your highschool yearbook? Seducing Scully into your bed and then discoursing on the different merits of wood-based and cotton-based paper?"

Mulder's eyes winced shut as the boot came in, but Krycek only brushed the hard leather over the bridge of Mulder's nose as a warning.

"And then, I suppose, you'll hold me at gunpoint, scowl into my eyes, and show me your Mickey Mouse postcards."

Krycek spat as accurately as he used any other weapon; Mulder felt the faint brush of moisture against his eyelashes, nothing more, before the drop hit the floor beside his face.

"I've had it with you, Foxy Willy."

Mulder cowered, but knew his arousal betrayed him.

"Kiss the boot and apologize."

The thought seemed so overwhelmingly physical that it paralyzed him for a moment, long enough for his tormentor to lose his patience.

"NOW, Mulder! You wanna act like a kid, I'll treat you like one. You have until the count of five. Ras! Dva! Tri! Chetire!--"*

Sheer terror broke the spell, even as his arousal grew harder. He kissed the boot desperately, his mouth opening against his will, and then he could stand it no longer and he rubbed his face all over the boot as far as his bondage permitted, taking Krycek's marking scent into his forehead, his cheeks, his nose and brow, his hungry, hungry jaw.

"And?"

"And I'm very sorry and I'll never do it again and O my god I'm going to come right now--"

Krycek's voice snapped like a whip. "No you won't. Not until I tell you to!"

And the boot pulled away, despite Mulder's desperate attempt to trap it against the floor with his cheek. Behind him, he heard the rustle of cloth and the welcome rasp of a zipper. And then, to his surprise, he felt well-lubed fingers on his ass.

He was too off-balance to keep himself from blurting, "You mean, you're gonna do me now? I thought you'd punish me by, you know, coming all over me or making me suck you off."

This time, the chuckle was almost indulgent. "Mulder, you know I cook better than you do?"

Mulder just blinked, unable to make that make better sense than--well, than the offense he was being punished for. But Krycek turned out to be making a different point.

"Mulder, I've got you perfectly trussed up like a Christmas turkey. And turkeys definitely should be stuffed before they're basted."

\---

* Ras = one. Yes, I'm told it's used instead of the more formal "odin" for counting. And no, Russians aren't the only ones with numbers that have two different names; English has at least two: twelve/a dozen, and zero/oh.

  
Archived: June 21, 2001 


End file.
